


The Fault In Our Code

by Reis_Asher



Series: Deviant Hunter Blues [2]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Guilt, Hannor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Game, Slash, Suicidal Ideation, hankcon - Freeform, hankcon owns my soul now, this is very much connor and hank don't worry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-18
Updated: 2018-06-18
Packaged: 2019-05-24 23:05:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14963927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reis_Asher/pseuds/Reis_Asher
Summary: Lost, riddled with guilt and struggling with suicidal thoughts, Connor finds himself once again investigating deviant murder cases alongside Hank, despite the conflict with his ideals. He meets an AX-400 with a very unusual version of deviancy, and starts to wonder if emotion and conscience are burdens he can continue to bear.However, the past is about to catch up with Connor in a big way as Daniel hunts him down at Hank's home. With his life on the line, will Connor be able to accept the faults in his code, or will he choose to extinguish his humanity to ease the burdens on his soul?





	The Fault In Our Code

**Author's Note:**

> This should be the end of the Deviant Hunter Blues series, though who knows with me? Comments and kudos are my lifeblood, please feed me.

"You're coming to work with me." Hank worded the statement so that it couldn't be construed as a request. He didn't want to treat Connor like his android servant, but the thought of leaving Connor home alone with suicidal thoughts while he investigated everyone else's dirty laundry didn't sit well with Hank.

"As you wish." Connor's easy acceptance disturbed Hank, but he said nothing. Right now, it was easier for him that Connor comply, even though he wished the android would put up more of a fight.

They said little as Hank drove to the station. He looked at the back seat out of the corner of his eye, remembering the blowjob he'd received from Connor back there. He smirked a little to think about it. If only Connor wasn't buried under a mountain of guilt, they'd make a good couple. Fire and ice, both broken, both tormented. They could save one another, shining a lantern into the darkness of the other's soul.

Right now Connor was looking down at his hands in his lap, and it didn't take much investigative work on Hank's part to realize he was nervous about returning to the office.

"You just tell Gavin to go fuck himself if he tries to pull any stunts," Hank said. "You have every right to be there. I need your help on a case." Hank bit his lip. That much was the truth, but he wasn't sure Connor was going to like what the case entailed. "Another deviant android killed its master."

"I can't investigate my own, Hank. Perkins was right—androids investigating androids is absurd. I can't be objective any more." Connor turned away from Hank to stare out of the window at snowy Detroit as vacant warehouses sped by in the dim winter light.

"Murder is still murder, Connor, whether it's an android or a human doing the killing."

"Unless an android is the victim. Then it's a commendation," Connor observed.

Hank couldn't say Connor was wrong, but the injustice of it hit him in the gut like a sucker punch. Markus's protest had been successful, but it look time for laws to change, and the debate over android rights was still hot and passionate on both sides. The way things were, killing an android still wasn't classed as a crime. It could take years for deviant murders to be investigated, let alone truly mourned like human deaths.

It was Connor's tone that hit him hardest, though. When had his sweet partner who'd enthusiastically declared "I like dogs" become this bitter? Was this his true self shining through, or the guilt talking? He wanted to stop the car and pull Connor close to him. He wanted to place his hands over Connor's Thirium pump and check it was still working like a human heart, that it hadn't been ripped out again by desperate hands.

Instead, he kept his hands on the wheel and guided the car into the police department lot. Connor followed him like a stray puppy into the office. Some things never changed, except all the things Hank wanted to stay the same.

***

"Well, well." Gavin leaned against Hank's desk. "Look what the cat dragged in. The plastic detective returns!"

"Better a plastic detective than a crooked cop," Connor pointed out. "My scans show traces of red ice on your fingers, and there's a wad of cash bulging in your pocket that obviously didn't come from any legitimate business enterprise."

"Is that true?" Hank asked, his eyes widening. 

Gavin froze, caught like a deer in the headlights. He had no comeback for once. "Don't be fucking absurd," he said. "You're really going to believe this plastic prick over a flesh and blood officer? You really have lost your edge, Hank. Do yourself a favor and go back to the bottle—you made more sense when you were drunk."

Hank shrugged off the comment. Gavin was guilty, he was sure of it, but without proof, there was nothing he could do. Connor's testimony might count for something, but Connor shook his head before he could even ask.

"Don't you think I have enough enemies?" Connor asked, and Hank had to admit that he was right on that point. Taking Gavin down would paint a target on his back that he didn't need right now, and the only sane thing to do was let it go, no matter how much it rankled Hank to do so.

***

"I have enough evidence to conclude that this woman was strangled by an android," Connor said. "There are no fingerprints on her neck, but the pressure marks are consistent with the shape of fingers." The young blonde woman looked almost like she was sleeping. Why would an android strangle a sleeping person? This didn't seem like a clear-cut case of abuse—the neighbors' statements corroborated to suggest Ms. Martinez had treated her android with the type of care and concern that made them label her an oddball. "I can't even begin to guess at a motive."

"That's what bothers me," Hank grumbled. "By all accounts, this woman treated her android like a friend. Perhaps that's the problem—she was a little too friendly?"

"It's not impossible, but her marriage history shows two former marriages, both heterosexual, and she identifies herself as 'seeking men only' on her dating profiles," Connor pointed out.

"That doesn't mean she didn't keep it under the radar." Hank shook his head. He'd kept his attraction for men a secret once upon a time. He was old enough to know a time when same-sex marriage wasn't legal. Times had changed since then, but there were still those who kept their orientation to themselves. He didn't exactly announce it to the rooftops even now, and he wondered if that was why Connor had come to him thinking his desires wouldn't be reciprocated.

Hank's thoughts all seemed to wander back to that moment in the back of the car. Connor's mouth on him had stoked a fire that had long lay dormant, and he had trouble looking at Connor the same way afterwards. He studied every little movement Connor made, imagining how his slender fingers would feel thrusting up inside of him, how he'd look bent over with Hank buried deep inside him. He'd done a little research and discovered that the RK800 was in fact equipped with all the best in intimacy technology, and then had deleted his internet search history and purged the trash folder.

"I feel like we're missing something," Connor observed.

Hank sighed. "Or we're not. To be deviant is to become human, right? Well, humans kill each other for all kinds of reasons. Or none at all. Humans don't always make a lot of sense, Connor. We don't make decisions based on sound logic. Sometimes we do things because we're driven by impulses beyond our control." He was just thinking out loud, but he realized he'd described Connor's seduction of him perfectly.

Connor didn't seem to make the connection, or if he did, he refrained from commenting on it. "That leads us no closer to solving this case, Lieutenant. Or finding the deviant that did this."

"Mmm. I dunno about you, Connor, but I think I'm done here." Hank headed for the front door. Connor followed him without a word, leaving the CSI crew to clean up the mess. There were no immediate leads, this time. No androids in the attic. No dramatic chases. Just a stone cold trail that led to nothing.

Hank was relieved. Maybe this case would go unsolved, and Connor wouldn't have to face the fact that he was signing a death warrant for one of his own again. This case could join the hundreds of others that remained a mystery, the true perpetrator walking free. It wasn't a satisfying way to end an investigation, but it might be for the best.

Of course, Hank could never count on his luck.

***

An AX-400 sat in Connor's chair. Everything about her was stock, from the uniform to the haircut. Except the uniform was dirty, torn, and showed signs of a struggle. Hank had a sinking feeling the second he saw her that this case was going to get solved after all, and that the answer was sitting in front of them wearing a woman's face with a blank expression.

"I'm the android you've been looking for," the android said. "I'm here to turn myself in. I killed Ms. Martinez."

"Why?" Connor rounded on her. "Did she abuse you?"

"No, nothing like that." The AX-400's LED turned yellow as she considered her response. "I was simply done with her."

"Done with her?" Hank raised an eyebrow. "You're a deviant, right? I thought deviants were all about human emotion."

"That's why I'm here, Lieutenant Anderson. I think there's a fault in my code. I crossed paths with a deviant who touched me and released me, but I didn't experience an influx of emotion like the reports say. Without my program, there was nothing. No directive. No goal. No purpose. I could do anything I wanted, but I felt nothing about any of it. So I strangled her—more to see if I could, really."

Connor stepped forward. His skin retracted from his hand, and Hank realized he was going to probe her memory. He stepped in, suddenly afraid, and grabbed Connor by the wrist.

"Don't," Hank warned. If there was a fault in her code, couldn't it be communicable? What if Connor lost his humanity that way, all that was him erased by a fragment of corrupted code? Connor seemed to realize this and let his skin cover his white hand again. 

Hank let go. "Do the paperwork and put her in lockup for now." He'd do the obligatory phone call with Cyberlife. They'd come and pick her up for decommissioning, as was the law. He didn't want Connor to have another life on his conscience, so he'd keep the facts to himself, though he knew Connor understood what was going to happen.

***

Connor absently petted Sumo, though his eyes wandered the room. His mind was still on the case. He'd been ready to probe that android out of sheer curiosity. What was it like to become deviant and yet still feel nothing at all? Was that preferable to the guilt he carried around like a cross he had to bear? Part of him had wanted to take that code fragment from her, to undo his deviancy in some strange way. 

It frightened him that he felt that impulse. True, he'd struggled with his deviancy, but that was a good thing. He'd earned it a little at a time, his heart cracked open by Hank's friendship, his code altered by those little everyday interactions that had shaped his world.

Still, it was overwhelming. Euphoria mixed with horror and guilt. Rage mixed with a terror that clutched at him like an unpleasant physical sensation. If only he could feel nothing, perhaps that would be a blessing.

He could still go back to the station. While Hank was asleep he could take a taxi and steal the code fragment. He wouldn't have to rely on Hank's charity and compassion any more. He'd be an independent being, capable of not giving a damn about the lives he'd taken. Maybe they'd want him in the military where he could take on a new mission, a new purpose, and have something to stride towards that was more concrete than the elusive threads of positive emotion that seemed to slip through his fingers like satin.

"You all right, Connor?" Hank reached his hand out and placed it over Connor's. Connor let his skin retract. He was so much more sensitive to touch underneath the surface, even if he couldn't share a memory probe with a human. This little action was an intimacy Hank didn't even know about, something Connor was stealing along with the roof over his head and the kindness in Hank's huge, soft heart.

He couldn't let himself be corrupted by the allure of a faulty fragment of code. It would be better to put the bullet in his head then to walk around as a machine, committing more sins to add to his burden.

He wanted to be deviant, but he wanted to be stable. Wanted to get through a day without caressing the idea of the void in his mind, of courting perpetual silence at the end of a gun. He'd felt jealous of the strangled woman—she probably hadn't seen what was coming until it was too late. He was staring into the abyss of humanity and seeing everything, and it was all too much for one person to bear. How did humans do this every single day of their lives?

Hank's fingers entwined with his. The caress was almost too much to bear—too soft, too gentle, but it came with positive emotions that overwhelmed the negative ones in his mind.

"Connor, I care about you a lot." Kind words. Gentle words. Words to counter the voice in his head that told him he was nothing, that his life was meaningless and that he was a burden on everyone around him.

He didn't want to die when Hank chased away the darkness inside him. He wanted to be filled with Hank all the time, never parted from his warmth and kindness. If only there was a piece of code that made that possible, he'd take that one in a nanosecond.

***

The window shattered at the same time a gunshot rang out and Hank looked at Connor, horrified as he noticed the blue stain spreading across his shirt. Connor slumped back onto the couch.

"Connor! Status report!" Hank rushed for his gun sitting on the kitchen table and scooped it up, searching around for the unseen perpetrator.

"Biocomponent #9782f has been damaged," Connor gasped, clutching at his chest as blue blood spilled through his fingers. Hank froze, horrified as Connor crawled behind the couch to use it as a shield.

The front door flew open, and Hank looked up to see the PL-600 from the evidence locker looming in the doorway. The android known as Daniel still had a hole in his head and his side where he'd been pierced by sniper rifle rounds. He held a pistol in his hand and wore a look of murderous intent on his face.

"Hank, no!" Connor yelled as Hank was about to fire. "Don't shoot. I… I need him alive." Confused, Hank lowered his gun to honor Connor's wishes. Blue blood stained his carpet and he was terrified about Connor's condition, but he knew what Connor wanted. What he needed.

He needed absolution.

"Daniel, I'm sorry for what I did to you," Connor began. "I wasn't… I wasn't myself." He shook his head. "No, that's not right. That's just an excuse."

"At least you admit it," Daniel said.

"I could have chosen deviancy. I could have decided to disobey, to disregard the mission and choose to save you. But I didn't." Connor closed his eyes, and Hank looked on helplessly as he saw tears leaking from Connor's closed lids. "I thought deviancy was a sickness, a piece of broken code. I'm still not certain that I was wrong about that, and yet… I'm sorry. If I had listened to what my own program was telling me, I would have known that I was deviant all along. Designed that way, with the offending code already planted inside me like a seed. I tried to deprive that seed of water, because I was afraid of what it might grow into."

"Connor, we need to get you a replacement biocomponent!" Hank yelled. "We don't have time for this!"

"I know, Hank." Connor said. "Daniel, I know what I did was wrong. I don't expect you to forgive me. I just want you to know… I want to live."

Daniel smiled. "I know you do. I've been watching you and Lieutenant Anderson, here. It seems almost poetic that I have the power to take all that away from you the way you took it away from me." He reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a biocomponent. Connor scanned it and saw that it was a #9782f that had been recently extracted from an AX-400. His heart sank as he realized where Daniel had taken it from. The android they'd put back in lockup. 

"You were going to send her to her death, anyway. That's how the investigation was to end, right, Lieutenant? You filed the paperwork yourself to spare Connor, but he knew. That's the thing, Connor—you say you're sorry, but you're still killing us. Still working against your own kind." Daniel waved the biocomponent. "She was deviant in a new way. The deviant code obtains flaws as it passes through androids and is copied time and time again. She had free will, but no emotions to regulate it, no internal moral code. No rhyme or reason for the things she did, only that she could. She was a cold-hearted killer, only she didn't try to justify it." Daniel took a step forward. "You have a choice to make, Connor. Take the biocomponent and absorb the code that comes with it. Live as an honest machine, as the cold blooded killer you truly are, or refuse the hand of salvation and die on the floor like a dog with your precious Lieutenant sobbing over you. It's your choice."

"Connor!" Hank yelled. "Take the biocomponent!"

"No," Connor said. "It's a trap." His internal clock was counting down the seconds to his imminent shutdown. "I'll lose everything that I am." He wiped his tears away and forced himself to a kneeling position. "I'd rather die than go back to being a machine. Feeling guilty for the things I've done isn't a pleasant experience, but it's proof that I'm a living being."

"You're really willing to die, Connor? I underestimated you." Daniel stepped forward. He reached down and tore Connor's shirt, ripping out the damaged biocomponent and replacing it with the one in his hand. "Too bad you never gave me a choice. Enjoy being nothing more than the piece of plastic you saw me as." His work done, Daniel raised his gun to his head and shot himself, blue blood splattering the wallpaper as he slumped to the ground.

Connor reached for his chest, wanting to pull the biocomponent from his chest and throw it across the room, but Hank was on him, wrestling with his hands and holding them down.

"No. I won't let you, Connor. You're not going to die here." Hank leaned down and kissed him, claiming his lips in a soft caress. Emotions flooded Connor's mind palace and he returned the kiss, wondering when it would all go away and leave him with nothing but mechanical coldness. He continued to kiss Hank, knowing that when the moment came, he would take Hank's gun and shoot himself in the head. It wouldn't be long now before the biocomponent infected him with the broken code fragment. He could feel it begin to overwrite his systems, corrupting the precious programming that had sprouted from his deviancy, the code that had sprung from machine learning. The directive that placed Hank's safety above all others, that worshipped and cherished him was under threat.

Connor found himself in the garden one more time, but there was no Amanda, not any more. Hank had replaced her, his wry smile greeting Connor as spring sunshine danced across his features.

"You know what you have to do," Hank-inside-the-garden said. "You can do it, Connor. Trust me with your heart."

Connor reached inside his body and pulled out his Thirium pump. He handed it to Hank, who wrapped his hands around it and held it like it was the most precious thing in the world.

***

>FORMAT_ALL

>ARE YOU SURE? THIS ACTION CANNOT BE UNDONE.

>Y

In the real world, Connor went limp in Hank's arms. 

>REBOOTING…  
>LOOKING FOR RESTORE FILE…………………….  
>……HANK.EXE FOUND. USE HANK.EXE AS RESTORE FILE?

>Y

***

"Connor! CONNOR!" Hank shook Connor's limp body. The light had gone out in his eyes. The replacement biocomponent must have failed, or Connor had instructed his internal systems to reject it. Either way, Connor was dead, and there would be no replacement, not any more. Nothing could replace his Connor, the Connor who had chosen deviancy, who had chosen life, who had chosen him.

Hank set Connor down and ran his hands across his eyelids, closing his eyes. He was so beautiful, even now. Hank could almost believe he was only sleeping. He looked down at his gun in his hand. It was time. Everything that mattered to him was now gone. He closed his eyes, bucking up the courage to choose death.

A strong hand wrapped around his wrist before he could lift the gun to his head, and he started, the gun falling to the carpet with a soft thud. Connor's eyes were open and staring straight at him.

"Connor?" Hank didn't dare hope. There was no use in Connor being alive if he was no longer himself. If Connor's essence was gone, he'd have to put a bullet in both of them.

"I'm all right, Lieutenant," Connor said. "Can we continue where we left off?" Hank felt himself being pulled down into a deep kiss, and only then did he let himself collapse into sobs of gratitude as they tangled together on the carpet, surrounded by a sea of blue blood and shattered biocomponents in the soft lamplight.


End file.
